Love Type Thing
by modernxxmyth
Summary: That was the thing about them. Just because they broke up didn't mean they stopped being a little bit in love with each other. Barney/Robin. One-shot.


**A/N:** Barney/Robin. Set mid-to-late season 6. No spoilers, just be up to date on the show. One-shot.

**Disclaimer:** Obviously not mine.

* * *

**Love Type Thing**

They were sitting in their usual booth at MacLaren's when it happened. Robin's phone rang like any other day – any other phone call. She set down the beer she was clutching and answered her phone. The group continued chatting, unawares. Barney was the first person to notice something was off. He stopped talking to the rest of the group about his most recent conquest upon seeing the look on Robin's face. He'd never seen anything quite like it before. Barney took pride in knowing the many faces of Robin Scherbatsky. He knew the ins and outs of all her facial expressions. He'd seen her happy. He'd seen her sad. He'd seen her aroused (many a time). He'd seen her nervous, and he'd seen her irritated. He'd seen her devastated. He'd seen her overjoyed. But this face – the not-quite-numb emotion displayed through her features – he'd never seen it. Not once.

Robin hung up the phone.

The group chatted on.

Barney blinked.

Robin cleared her throat.

Barney instinctively reached for her hand.

Robin spoke, "My dad is dead."

Barney's breath caught in his throat, and he squeezed her hand as if to say he's sorry, to say he's there without speaking the words.

Lily moved over to her side of the booth to pull her into a hug that Robin didn't respond to. Everyone expressed their sorrow and grievances, but Barney remained quiet, clutching her hand without knowing what to say.

Marshall handed Robin his fresh, untouched beer. "You need this more than me," he said with a sad, knowing expression.

Robin thanked him quietly.

No one knew quite what to do.

"The funeral is on Friday."

Barney spoke for the first time. "We'll be there."

Robin rolled her eyes. "It's in Canada."

"I've followed you to Canada before, Scherbatsky. That's why they make passports. We'll be there."

The group echoed his sentiments and nodded.

Robin ran a hand through her hair. "Thanks, guys."

She started on her new beer.

The group left one by one, and Robin decided to head to bed. Barney grabbed her elbow and stopped her just before she left the bar and said, "If you need anything, let me know, alright?"

Robin nodded and headed upstairs.

* * *

The next evening, no one was quite sure where Robin was. She hadn't shown up at MacLaren's as they had all planned.

"Where do you think she is?" Lily asked with a concerned expression.

Barney swallowed the last of his scotch and stood up. "Where else? I'm going to check the shooting range."

* * *

Barney covered his ears and cringed as Robin shot her gun at the target with force several times in a row.

He shouted, "Scherbatsky! Lay off for a second!"

Robin turned on him in surprise, the gun pointed towards him.

Barney put his hands up in surrender.

Robin made an irritated noise and lowered the weapon. "Barney, you don't sneak up on someone with a gun. It's never good idea. Especially when you _know_ they are quick on the trigger."

"Sorry, sorry."

"So what are you doing here?" Robin put on the gun's safety.

"Oh, you know. I was in the neighborhood. I come here sometimes to pick up women. Tell them I'm a cop, and I'm working on my shooting accuracy."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, definitely. It's pretty awesome. I score all the time."

Robin raised an eyebrow.

Barney shrugged. "Fine. You didn't show up at the bar. We were worried. I figured you would be here."

"I'm fine, Barney."

"Uh huh."

"I'm _fine_."

"You're not fine."

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "My father was a jackass who tried to raise me as a boy. I had no real relationship with him, so there's no real loss. I'm fine."

Barney sighed. "Alright, Scherbatsky. Do you want to get a drink?"

Robin shook her head. "No, I'm going to stay here for a little while."

"Okay," he replied. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Robin almost smiled, but it came off as more of a grimace.

She nodded. "I know."

* * *

The group left for Canada a few days later. They arrived a few hours before the funeral, and they settled their things in Robin's childhood home – the one that she had shared with her father, Charles, for many years before she moved in with her mom, who had left her father when Robin was ten. The home had been left to Robin in her father's will, and she planned on selling it as quickly as possible.

The funeral was a quiet affair. The church was small and so was the crowd. A few of his friends spoke in his honor. None of his family did. Robin was the only family the man had left before he died, and she had no interest in honoring (or potentially dishonoring) his memory with a eulogy. They all sat quietly through it, and Robin sat between her mother and Lily, who was holding her hand tightly.

Robin remained stoic through the proceedings, her face a blank mask, barely paying attention to her surroundings. She floated through the funeral with casual disinterest.

At the wake, Barney politely introduced himself to Robin's mother and step-father, who was there for moral support.

After he made his exit, Robin's mother expressed to her daughter, "He seems a bit odd, dear, your friend. Why was he wearing jeans at the funeral?"

Robin rolled her eyes. "That's just Barney. He's just a bit eccentric. He's not that bad. Besides he's wearing a suit now. I don't think he could keep away from it any longer, actually…"

Mrs. Scherbatsky made a ticking noise in the back of her throat, fussed over Robin's blouse for a moment, and left her be, heading into the kitchen.

The wake was being held at Charles' residence, the home Robin had grown up in, and the group seemed captivated by their surroundings, questioning Robin consistently about little details.

"Where's all your Robin Sparkles stuff?" Ted asked.

"At my mom's. I didn't become a pop star until I moved in with her."

"Ohhhh," he drew out the word.

Barney popped into the conversation. "Can we go to your mom's then? I want to see your costumes. Maybe convince you to put on a show."

"Absolutely not."

Lily, who had looked hopeful at the prospect, cast her eyes downward.

Marshall gave her a light pat on the back, and she gave him a small smile. If anyone in the group knew what she was going through, it was him, despite their polar opposite relationships with their fathers.

People left the house as the hours passed, and eventually it was only Robin, her friends, and her mother that remained. Mrs. Scherbatsky yawned loudly and gave her daughter a hug.

"I'm off to bed, dear, I'll see you in the morning. It _is_ strange being back in this house…" she drifted off and headed to her room for the evening.

Lily and Marshall went up to bed not long after, giving Robin hugs and assurances that everything would be alright. She waved them off and sent them to sleep (or celebrate life, as she suspected). Ted hovered near her awkwardly, unsure if she needed him.

Robin spoke, "You can go to bed too, Ted. I know you want to call Zoey."

"What? No I don't! I'm here for you!"

Robin nudged him towards the staircase repeating "I'm fine" like mantra.

"Yeah, you are," Barney agreed with a grin.

She snorted. "I need a drink."

Robin went into the kitchen and poured herself a healthy helping of scotch. Barney followed her there, and she poured him one, as well.

She handed the drink to him. "Single malt. Courtesy of my father."

Barney took a sip of the scotch. "Your father has awesome taste."

_Had_, she mentally corrected him.

Robin downed her drink. "In scotch, yes."

She poured herself another and headed into the living room. She sat down on the couch with a sigh, and Barney followed suit. Robin sipped her scotch slowly this time. Barney yawned.

"You can go to bed, too, you know," said Robin. "I don't need you to stay here with me."

"I'm not tired."

"Your eyes are drooping."

"They do that naturally."

"Uh huh."

"They do!"

"I believe you."

Barney scowled at her sarcasm and sipped his drink.

"I'm fine, you know," Robin explained.

"Of course you are."

"I'm not bothered by it."

"I believe you," he repeated her facetious words.

It was Robin's turn to scowl.

Barney stated, "You know, Scherbatsky, its okay to not be okay with all of this."

Robin grimaced. "You sound like Ted."

"Yeah, I think I vomited a little bit in my mouth after I said that."

She let out a loud, genuine laugh.

Barney beamed.

After a pause, Robin muttered the word "thanks" so quietly it could barely be heard.

"Don't mention it."

Robin shivered a little. "I don't like being back here."

"Not so fond memories?" Barney inquired.

"To say the least."

"Like what?"

Robin considered him a moment, then spoke. "Well, for starters, I'm pretty sure I was sitting exactly where you are when my dad put one his cigars out on my forearm."

Barney's eyes widened.

"Relax, Stinson. He wasn't abusive or anything, really. There were a couple incidents over the years, but really nothing worse than that."

She shrugged and continued, "I told you I hated the man."

Like that explained everything.

Barney spoke a bit gruffly, "I thought that was just because he tried to raise you as a boy."

He hesitantly reached for her forearm. "So that's how this mark happened? You told me it was a sex injury."

Robin chuckled. "That made a much better story."

"Heh. Yeah it did."

Robin finished her drink and set down her glass. Barney did the same.

"What else did he do?" Barney asked, not quite sure he wanted the answer.

"He was just a very mean person. For the longest time, all I wanted was his approval. I wanted him to accept me. Instead he did things like raise me as a boy and put cigars out on my arm. Now at least I don't have to worry about him being a part of my life anymore."

She looked down and her eyes began to water a little.

"As much as I don't want him to be a part of my life…" she broke off and sniffled before continuing, "It's weird knowing he won't be anymore. I never wanted to make amends or anything, but now that I know we'll never have the chance…I don't know. I'm being stupid because he was an ass, and it's a wonder he died of a heartattack rather than me shooting him, so I'm going to shut up and stop crying now."

But she didn't stop crying.

Instead, Barney pulled her head on his shoulder and let her cry, wrapping an arm around her. He was suddenly reminded of a time they'd been in a similar position – a night at MacLaren's, years earlier, just as they began. The twisted journey that was Barney-and-Robin, together, apart, and in-between.

Robin sniffled quietly and wiped her eyes thoroughly, trying to end her crying as quickly as she could. Robin Scherbatsky didn't _do_ emotions, let alone did she cry, and nipped it in the bud as quickly as possible.

She spoke in a quiet voice, "I'm ruining your suit."

"That's what dry cleaning is for."

It was the biggest expression of compassion a person could receive from Barney Stinson. Damaging one his beloved suits and him not minding (or at least pretending not to)? It was a high honor.

Robin ran her thumb across the wet patch she'd left on his suit jacket and heard Barney's sharp intake of breath. A hint of a smirk crossed Robin's lips, pleased that such a subtle touch of hers still had such an effect on him. She snaked her hand slowly across his chest and grabbed his tie. She tugged on it gently and angled him towards her.

They were exes. Robin figured they were overdue for a backslide, anyway.

She pressed her lips against his.

Barney melted into the kiss like he had the hundreds before. He gave in with thinly veiled desire, hoping he could give her what she needed.

That was the thing about them. Just because they broke up didn't mean they stopped being a little bit in love with each other.

Barney and Robin were dysfunctional and destructive together, but that didn't make the feelings any less real.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, lips never ceasing, only pausing to catch the occasional shaky breath. Barney made no move to take things any farther (which for him was quite an effort). He relied solely on cues from Robin, allowing her to set the pace.

He genuinely wanted to help. And if this was what she felt like she needed, there was no way he was going to complain.

Robin grabbed a hold of his tie again, and yanked. She dragged him upstairs and into her room.

"You know," she began in between panting breaths, "I've never actually had sex in here before."

Barney looked around the room while taking off his suit coat. "Is this the room you grew up in, Scherbatsky?"

She started pulling off her shirt. "Yep."

"It's pretty…plain."

She started unzipping her skirt.

"Yep. My dad wouldn't let me have anything girly, and I didn't want anything _he_ wanted me to have, so here we have it. The bare necessities. I took all the good stuff when I moved to my mom's anyway. Are we done discussing the early years of my life? Because it's little disconcerting when I'm thinking about all the dirty things I'm planning on doing to you."

"Done. Absolutely done. In fact, I think we should talk about just how much of a grown woman you are. Maybe I could show you…"

She pressed her lips against his again and pulled down his pants. He quickly unhooked her bra, throwing it to the floor. Robin pushed Barney back onto the bed and climbed on top of him.

"Robin," he gasped as she grinded down on him.

She scratched her nails down his bare chest. "Please," she whispered, a little more vulnerable than usual.

That was all the permission he needed. Barney flipped Robin over and began assaulting her neck with his mouth. He kissed up and down her chest and slipped a hand inside her panties, giving her exactly what she wanted. Robin cried out. He pulled the underwear down, and Robin kicked them off her ankles and onto the ground to be forgotten.

And moments later, the world shifted again in a way neither of them had felt in a year and a half. It was wild and fast and felt much like their first time together – feeling each other and matching each other perfectly.

It went on all night, as it usually did with them. They fell asleep around dawn, limbs tangled and bodies pressed up against each other.

They woke up a few hours later with Robin's mother knocking on the door.

"Robin, dear! Breakfast is ready."

Her eyes snapped open. "Okay, mom," she replied in a gravelly, tired voice. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

She waited several moments until she was sure her mother was no longer in earshot. Robin turned towards Barney and laughed quietly.

"We almost got caught," he said.

"By my mother. I feel like a teenager again."

Barney chuckled.

"So…" Robin began. "We, uh…we rocked that backslide pretty hard."

"That we did, Scherbatsky. That we did." He sighed. "So how are we going to do this?"

"The moment my feet touch the floor…"

Barney nodded. "I got it."

Robin smiled. "But before they do…" She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. She didn't do communication. She didn't talk about her feelings. So with the kiss, she did her best to thank him. And she hoped he got the message.

He did. "You're going to be alright, you know."

"I know I am. I'm awesome."

He grinned. "You're one of the most awesome people I have ever known."

This time she found the words. "Thank you, Barney."

"Don't mention it, Scherbatsky."


End file.
